


Eight Hundred Times

by SBK



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, RIP, do both, dont read this, read this, sad shit, undertale - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 21:43:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5222018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SBK/pseuds/SBK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Red paints gold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eight Hundred Times

Frisk draped a blue blanket over Sans as he slept, the light from the t.v highlighting his frame in blues and whites. They made their way over to said t.v (careful of creaking floorboards and random junk that littered the ground) and turned it off, the room being enveloped in a dark, lonely black. Soft snoring came from Papyrus’ room, he was asleep too. Probably dreaming of the Royal guard and pasta. Who knows? It was time. They had on their favorite sweater and a pair of tan shorts, headed outside into the bitter cold. _Seven souls_. It rang in their head like a song stuck on repeat, never changing. Always the same, shaky words. _Seven souls_.  Frisk liked to think it was just Chara speaking, forcing them to remember that they’re the one ripping happiness from Monsters’ alike. Frisk likes to pretend it doesn’t affect them. After all, that’s what eight year olds are supposed to do. To pretend. Someone whispers something about Frisk being a lot older than just eight.

 

**Think of all the times you’ve reset. Hundreds, upon hundreds. You’re way older than eight. Seven souls.**

 

Frisk opens the small, wooden door to the Skeletons’ home. It creaks and suddenly Papyrus is yelling at Sans to fix it. That Sans should stop being such a lazybone and go buy the oil from the store. Frisk stifled a small snigger at the memory as they stepped out into the cold, the snow biting at their skin. Their hair dancing in the wind. They shut the door behind them, their sneakers crunching into the soft, fluffy blanket that decorates the dirt ground below. Snowdin is fairly dark around this hour, all lights off. (Save for the few Christmas lights that hang loose on some buildings). They continue onward, toward Waterfall. The snow reached up to their knees, turning the skin pinkish red, eyes shutting. Trying to stay determined despite the flakes of white that fell on their eyelashes and hair.. They wish they were still in Sans’ bed. Cuddling his blanket close to their chest, eyes shut and sleeping. They were exhausted. They haven’t slept good in forever.

 

**You’re done being selfish though, remember? How dare you be exhausted. You’ve seen the look in Sans’ eyes. You’re a monster. You should just kill them. Place them out of their forced misery. You dirty brother killer.**

Frisk nods in agreement to the dirty brother killer part, but shake their head at killing them. “All for nothing, then.” they choke out. They know what they have to do. They have to beat Flowey to Asgore’s. He’s asleep though, they know that. They’ve studied everyone's’ sleeping patterns for the last two resets just so that way they could pull this off.

 

They continue forward.

 

\---

 

Sans cracks an eye open, a warm blanket tucked firmly around his sitting frame. He blinks a tad, then wonders if it was Papyrus who tucked the blanket around him. Sans shakes his head, his grin turning more genuine. With white, boney hands, he pulls the blanket off with a small amount of leisure.

 

“Spaghetti?” Sans asks his brother, who’s currently hovering over the stove, hand stirring aggressively. Papyrus nods, a triumphant grin on his face.

 

“I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS CANNOT IGNORE THE HUMAN’S FACE SO EASILY. THEY LOOK TIRED AND NOTHING BUT SOME HOMEMADE SPAGHETTI WILL DO THE TRICK!!! THEY’LL BE ECSTATIC!”

 

Sans grins and nods, pushing the checkered blanket out of the way as he slips outdoors. He’s shocked to find everyone in particularly high spirits.

 

“Yeah! We can finally go to the surface!”

 

Sans stops.

 

“The Human who came through opened the gate for us!”

 

Sans stops breathing.

 

“Shame though, they were really cute!”

 

Sans stops breathing and thinking altogether.

 

**What?**

 

\---

 

Finally, they made it. The castle being silent for the most part. Surprisingly, Asgore was awake, tending to the golden flowers. Frisk smiled a little.

 

**Don’t do it, Frisk. I’ll just make you reset, I swear I’ll do it.**

 

 _'Shut up'_ Frisk thinks. Frisk pulls the knife out, feeling the black, plastic, handle through their fingertips. They want to call someone, but they don’t. Instead, they stand a little straighter a they start walking. Their knees are scratched and bruised, their legs have multiple black and blue marks on them. All disgusting. Bandaids cling to their fingers, one standing out like a sore thumb on the bridge of their nose. They’ve had enough of this game. Going back and forth. Reset after Reset.

 

Asgore turns to them, a soft smile spreading across his lips. He too, looks tired.

 

“This is quite the late hour, Human. I’d offer you some warm milk… maybe a bedtime story… _but_ …”

 

**Frisk. _Frisk._**

Frisk waves their hand in a dismissive manner, lifting the knife up. It looks as if they're about to fight him, Asgore’s smile becomes strained. Frisk feels determination flow through their veins.

“I see… So you’re ready?” Asgore asks, pulling his red trident out, gripping it with a special amount of unease. Frisk nods their head. They twist the knife toward their gut, sucking in a deep breath. Asgore won’t be able to live with the guilt of killing them. They’ll do it for him. They hear Asgore take in a sharp breath.

 

“H-Human-” He sounds urgent, the red object clanking to the floor as he rushes toward them.

 

Red paints gold.

 

\---

 

Seven hundred ninety nine, times they’ve reset, and the one time they didn’t.  

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> poor frisK


End file.
